Home
by afrai
Summary: Rukia finds a home, but learning the rules is going to take some time. AU.
1. Home

Author: afrai  
Summary: Rukia finds a home, but learning the rules is going to take some time. AU.  
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite probably wouldn't give me baby!Rukia, but oh, I wish he would!   
Notes: My id has no shame. But hey, what's new?

**Home**

"Seventeen bowls ... "

This is the worst thing Rukia's ever done.

"Twenty-two cups ... "

Worse than the time she accidentally kicked the puppy in the ribs when she was running away from that stupid fat man in the marketplace, who hadn't really had candy anyway -- and not much money, either. Worse than the time she ran away from the old lady who gave her food, because she was nice but she smelled like old person, and Rukia likes the sky better than roofs over her head.

"Three plates, and the cook's left knee. And ... " The Lord Byakuya doesn't exactly raise an eyebrow, but he looks like he's definitely thinking about it. "The ornamental fish pond?"

"Yes, Brother," says Rukia. She wants to say _I'm sorry_ and get it all over with, but she's learnt that in this house there's a time for everything, and sorry only comes after the list of sins.

"How, precisely, do you break an ornamental fish pond?"

Rukia doesn't cower, _doesn't_.

"I didn't think it would work," she says. Worse than anything she's ever done, because her sister twitches at that and raises her hand to hide her mouth and Rukia's not supposed to make her sister ashamed of her. Lord Byakuya told her so, and she had been going to listen. But being good isn't easy when you're six and left all alone with a pond full of fish _right there_.

"Six dead koi in the bath -- "

"I wanted to keep them," says Rukia sadly. They would have been easier to get at that way. She gets lots of food now -- three times a day, as long as she sits with her back straight and doesn't talk with her mouth full -- but it's always a good thing to have extra. She's sure she could have figured out how to cook them.

"Strange. I do not recall asking for your reasons for wreaking mayhem on my property," says Lord Byakuya. This means _shut up_, and is worse, somehow, than every shouted curse she's ever had hurled at her from enraged grown-ups. Rukia shuts up.

"And ... ah. A vase."

That's all this time. The second kitchenmaid sprained her ankle as well, but that isn't important enough for her brother to mention it.

"I'm so -- "

"The age and value of the vase has been impressed upon you, I believe," says Lord Byakuya.

Now Rukia does cower a bit, but not on purpose. The servant was _very_ loud, which Rukia's used to, but -- it was an important vase.

It's still an important vase, of course. It's just smaller now.

"My deepest apologies," she says miserably.

There is a horrible silence.

"The usual punishment, then," says Lord Byakuya finally. "I will speak to your nurse." He doesn't look up from the list. "You may leave."

She should go. This is the worst part, anyway -- the extra chores and lessons are boring, but the whippings Rukia's nurse gives wouldn't make a baby cry, and none of it is as bad as her sister's face when Rukia's been naughty.

But she looks at her sister, sitting quietly beside Lord Byakuya, and she doesn't go.

She gets up and she bows, low and respectful, the way her sister's taught her.

("Courtesy costs nothing," the Lady Hisana said. "Hisana has always found it an aid in interpersonal relations. And an empty courtesy is equal to none at all -- one bows with true politeness, with sincere humility."

"And then you bite them?" said Rukia.

"If necessary," said her sister. "Hisana prefers the elbow -- but that is for another lesson.")

Rukia keeps her head low, the way she was taught, and says, quickly, before the fear can swallow her voice,

"If I could ask. Sis -- my lady -- "

She straightens up and holds out her arms, closing her eyes tight so she doesn't have to see the Lady Hisana's face.

This is the bravest thing Rukia's ever done.

The silence is worse now, and she flinches at the presence coming closer, but she doesn't open her eyes until big, warm hands pick her up.

Then her eyes are open. Her face is half-buried in the white scarf, but she sees her sister's expression anyway, from over the broad shoulder. And then she knows (though she doesn't know _why_) -- she couldn't have done anything worse than this.

"Come," her brother says. "To bed with you."

She nods against his shoulder. Doesn't look to her sister anymore, doesn't speak, doesn't cry because that would mess her brother's scarf up and messing things up is bad. She will be good.

She says this, very soft against his neck, when they're out of the room. There's no point if her sister can't hear her, but she says it anyway, and she feels a little better when Lord Byakuya says, "Hn."

"I promise," she insists.

"You will have to keep it," says her brother. It sounds a little like a threat, but Rukia nods. She learnt that _long_ ago, ages and ages ago, when her sister first found her and said she'd take care of her.

"I know," she says.

The Kuchiki keep their promises. Rukia'll learn how to do that too.

_End._


	2. A perturbing proclivity

Author: afrai  
Summary: Rukia picks up low habits. Drabble.

**A perturbing proclivity**

Rukia developed an unlovely habit of leaping upon her brother when he appeared at the door after the day's work, which neither beatings nor withering sarcasm deterred.

"The child," said Kuchiki Byakuya to his wife.

"My lord?"

"The child." There could be no mistake as to his meaning, for only one child in the world could merit any designation from Lord Byakuya. "She appears to have no fear."

He did not seem certain himself whether this made him proud or annoyed.

Hisana looked away. It was as if a frost had fallen.

"My lord has never betrayed her," she said.


	3. Climate Change

Author: afrai  
Summary: There adjustments to be made.

**Climate Change**

There were lessons to be learnt on both ends. The thought occurred to Byakuya upon discovering a stack of paper stolen from, among others, the 13th division -- he recognised the letterhead, and the probability that Rukia had obtained _that_ particular canvas by entirely legal means.

"One wonders if the effort of requesting that Ukitake desist from interfering in our family affairs is worth it," he said to his wife, "considering that he will almost certainly ignore any such request."

"The Captain is fond of children," said Hisana.

Byakuya managed to indicate his utter incomprehension of and contempt for such boundless folly without moving a muscle.

"Hisana did not know that her sis -- that Rukia drew," said his wife.

"Hn," said Byakuya. "... I appear to be a rabbit."

"A most dignified rabbit, my lord," said Hisana, to whom a certain bunny on page 5 bore a resemblance striking considering the artist's questionable skill.

"At least," suggested my lady, "my lord is not a bear."

"It is difficult to discern the difference."

"The bears are the people she dislikes," said Hisana softly. She touched page 5. There were hearts around the rabbit with the wistful smile, and underneath, in a staggering script, the words: _my sister_.

"Her calligraphy leaves much to be desired," said my lord.

He said no more of the matter, but if a drawing of a rabbit whose kenseikan sat awkwardly with his ears remained precisely affixed to his desk with a paperweight -- well, who would mention such a triviality to the young Kuchiki heir?

_End._


	4. Experiments in Eschatology

Author: afrai  
Summary: "Kuchiki Byakuya does fatherhood: now it's painful for everybody!"

**Experiments in Eschatology**

Rukia kept careful track of the captains and vice-captains of the Thirteen Court Divisions, the higher echelons of the Demon Arts Brigade, and the most important officials of the Covert Operations and Executive Militia: which persons, not coincidentally, were also some of the most prominent members of the aristocracy.

Not that this mattered to Rukia, who had constructed a hierarchy of her own. Her favour was courted for a variety of reasons, some less noble than others. For a six-year-old she was not capricious, but it would have been demanding too much of human nature to expect her favourites always to be constant. Nevertheless, Ukitake Jyuushirou generally held a secure position high in her affections.

"You make an excellent grandparent," Shunsui said to him. Byakuya's expressions when the child was returned to him sticky-mouthed and ragged were a thing to see.

Ukitake smiled. He spoilt Rukia the way he did largely because he liked her, but also because he liked her adopted brother, as someone very old and kind may like a wayward, difficult, amusing child.

"Children are to be enjoyed," he said. "Besides, honest indignation is good for the young." He did not mean Rukia.

"An educational experience," Shunsui murmured. He himself was regarded with wariness by Rukia, who distrusted his stubble and perpetual smell of sake, but he fed her when he could and teased her when he could not.

She dogged her brother's feet, and came to know his peers and betters better than he bothered to, though she was all Kuchiki when it came to ignoring those beneath her (and she had, of course, adopted her brother's status as her own). She was for a while betrothed to Shiba Kaien, before she threw him over to take up with Miyako – a development that found a broken-hearted Shiba heir prostrate on the steps to the Kuchiki house, clutching at his chest and embarrassing the servants.

"Ah, a tramp," said the head of the house, stepping over the body. His childhood friend howled and cursed him for a callous bastard.

"I may never heal!" he said. When Byakuya showed no inclination to slow his steps, he sat up and poked his head past the door.

"Byakuya! What if Rukia-chan never returns to my bosom?" An even worse thought struck him. "What if Miyako-san likes her better than me?"

Byakuya's impassive back twitched.

"Years of war between our two houses, finally ended," said Kaien mournfully. "_Or so we thought._ I was looking forward to the marital alliance! Let other men recoil from the prospect of an eternity of rabbit-patterned curtains. The Shiba are made of better stuff than – ow!"

"Vacate my steps, or – " said Byakuya, and proceeded to make his thoughts on drunkards and yobs who were lost to all right feelings clear, while Kaien lay back on the ground and shook like a man in the grip of the palsy.

"And kindly," Byakuya wound up with a terrible sarcasm, "do not speak of my sister in such a manner. If you do not stop laughing, I will cut you!"

Kaien was for a while not capable of speech, though fortunately he could still match his friend step for step in a game of _shyunpo_.

"Just like old times," he said when he had enough breath to say anything.

"The child has a genius for multiplying indignities," said Byakuya, which was his way of conceding that he had not behaved like this since Kaien and he were both on the scabbier-kneed side of ten years old.

"It's ungracious to blame your relatives for your own dumbassery," said Kaien kindly. Byakuya was silent, which could have meant anything, but as they had been children together – well, that meant nothing. But Kaien could read people better than most. Silence caused him no trouble. Other people's feelings seemed to hang in the air for him like colours or smells.

"Hey, if she's too much of a handful for you, we could use some new blood," he said. The nonchalance, and the underlying seriousness, were quite deliberate. "She'd take to the fireworks, I bet."

"I assure you, you need not strive to offend," said Byakuya, his voice like ice. "You manage well enough in that direction without actively working towards it."

"You don't like that people like you better now you've got the kid around," said Kaien.

This elicited a reaction: Byakuya's lip curled.

"They are more bare-faced in their impudence, if that is what you mean."

"No. They used to whisper," said Kaien. "Now they laugh, but they do it openly, and they're laughing with you more often than not. You're one of us now. Isn't that a good thing?"

There was no response – which was only to be expected. Kaien sighed and stretched and leant back, his hands behind his head.

"The offer stands, by the way," he said. "Guess your missus would never allow it, but if you ask me, Rukia-chan deserves better than to be put up with – "

Byakuya's expression did not change, but Kaien shot upright as if a shock had gone through him, opening his mouth to apologise.

"The child drew blood from Ichimaru Gin the other day," said Byakuya, before he could speak.

"Yeah?" said Kaien, contrite.

"Bite on the left calf," said Byakuya. "He required Fourth Division attention."

"She hisses whenever he comes by the office."

"A habit we are attempting to correct," said Byakuya, and went on: "She has been whipped, and she will be on short commons for the next few days."

Kaien did not say what he thought of the futility of this, but Byakuya said, without even looking at him, "It is the point behind the gesture that counts" – a thing he would never have said in his youth, but now he was ripe in the wisdom that comes from trying to tame a child who has been a proficient thief basically since she had sufficient motor coordination to grasp things and get away with them.

"Can't say I blame her, though," said Kaien. "Guy's kind of a creep."

"She is not being punished for that," said Byakuya, in measured tones, "but for her method. There are better ways to deal with snakes. Rukia's chosen methods soil herself."

"She's only six – " said Kaien, bewildered. Then he looked at Byakuya's face, and enlightenment hit like the pommel of a sword to the back of the neck.

"... ah. But it wouldn't matter to you if she was sixty," he said. "Even if she knew better. Dirt wouldn't stick to her if she waded in mud."

"To others, it would. She must learn," said Byakuya, with what for him was remarkable mildness. "You will recognise her quality in time."

"I already do – I mean, Christ, she's a cute kid, not a way of life," said Kaien, but he saw that this was not the tone to be taking with a man to whom marriage was an earthquake and a child an apocalypse. He said, half-laughing, half-exasperated,

"You could just say she's your kid and you love her no matter what. The way, you know, _normal people_ would."

Byakuya somehow managed to express his disgust at the very thought of being in any way like normal people without saying anything. Kaien laughed and sat up.

"So do I get to see the princess, or are visitors not allowed right now?"

"You may convey your request for an audience by a servant," said Byakuya. "If she wishes to admit your presence, that is her choice."

"Is that a hint of a sense of humour?" said Kaien. "Keep up the good work, Byakuya-bo – I'm going, I'm going!

"Do you think," he added wistfully, "Rukia-chan would take me back if I gave her candy?"

"The servants are under orders to maim anyone who tries," said Byakuya. "She needs to look after her teeth."

"Kuchiki Byakuya does fatherhood: now it's painful for everybody!" hummed Kaien. "Going. Going!"

And he was, indeed, gone.

_End._


	5. Homewreckers start young

Author: afrai  
Summary: Rukia makes friends and influences people. Prompted by a line in _Experiments in Eschatology_:

_Rukia was for a while betrothed to Shiba Kaien, before she threw him over to take up with Miyako ..._

**Homewreckers start young**

It was no more than a rustle of leaves, such as any passing breath of wind may steal from a tree, but it was warning enough for the sixth seat of the 13th division. She paused, her brush hovering in mid-air, and looked up.

To most of the world she was a rather overserious young lady -- competent, no doubt; undeniably beautiful; and possessed of impeccable form; but a beacon of ordinariness in a division known for its gentle eccentricities. Her only obvious quirk was her fondness of working outdoors, where the grinding tedium of paperwork could be relieved by fresher air than could be found inside the division headquarters, and even this was a sensible habit in the summer. Few were sharp enough to catch the gleam of humour that lit her eyes from time to time, and showed that she was not exempt from what some of the other captains scathingly called the occupational whimsy of the 13th.

This shared spirit of fancy lit her eyes now. She set down her brush and said to the rustle,

"Will the little one come down to bear me company?"

The face that emerged from the green was small, rather dirty, and unflatteringly suspicious.

"I am very bored," the woman added. This did not seem to bear any particular weight with the little one: but then Miyako smiled, and the child said,

"I will come."

She dropped out of the tree too fast for Miyako even to be alarmed, landing on her feet like a cat. As Miyako considered how she should seat her guest, the child settled the matter by clambering onto the desk, unceremoniously pushing aside stacks of paperwork to make space.

She was a pale, nervy little thing, with a face hollowed by hardship and a look to her that no child should have -- the face of a survivor from the Alley. Despite her general grubbiness, she was beautifully dressed, clearly well-fed, and she had all the serene audacity of the beloved child. She examined Miyako's hands, played for five absorbed minutes a mysterious game with each individual finger, wound it up by declaring them (and their owner) pretty, and then sat back with an air of having done her part and expecting to be entertained in return.

"And could I know the reason why the little one has chosen to honour us with her presence today?" said Miyako.

The little one was waiting, as it turned out.

"For my betrothed," she explained.

Miyako was ashamed so to reveal her ignorance, but who was the little one's betrothed?

"His name is Shiba Kaien," said the child. "He has promised to marry me when I am big, and then we will live in his house, and eat whatever we want, and I can blow things up every day" -- this said with a terrifying bloodthirsty satisfaction.

Miyako covered her mouth, but when the child said hastily that she would not blow _her_ up -- "because you are so pretty" -- she took her hand away and assured the child that she had every confidence in her.

"So he has been courting you, has he?" said Miyako, who seemed very amused. "O, the faithlessness of man!"

"Don't you like him?" said the child. "Brother does not either, and he says he will cut Kaien if Kaien comes any more, because he does not like it when Kaien laughs -- and Kaien always laughs."

"I see you know Lord Shiba well," said Miyako. "Do you always call him Kaien, my dear?"

"That is what Brother calls him," said the child simply. "_I_ like Kaien because he is not afraid of the servants, or even Brother, and he gives me sweets."

Miyako's mouth trembled. "He must be very brave."

The child nodded.

"Almost everyone I know is afraid of Brother," she said, but she said it with a sort of pride: _quite right, too_ was the implication. "But Kaien is only afraid of one person, and I do not know her. _P'raps_ she is scarier than Brother."

"And what is this person's name, may I ask?"

"I do not know, but Kaien calls her Princess, and says thunder rolls in the sky when she is angry. Do you know her?" said the child, seeing the flicker of laughter in Miyako's face.

"I have seen her once or twice," said Miyako. "But I can vouch for it that she is very much less frightening than your brother."

The child thought about this.

"Then maybe he is afraid of her because she means to kill him," she said, after a long period of silent cogitation. "Brother is always angry at Kaien, but he doesn't really want to kill him."

"Perhaps that is why," Miyako said agreeably. "How do you know your brother does not wish to kill Lord Shiba?"

The child looked at Miyako in wonder.

"Kaien isn't dead," she said.

"Ah. Of course."

"But if this Princess means to kill him, it is sensible of him to be afraid," said the child.

"It does not seem to disturb you very much that your betrothed's life may be in danger," Miyako observed.

"If he can't manage to stay alive, he is not worth marrying," said the child.

Miyako did not laugh aloud, but it was a near thing.

"Kuchiki to the bone," she murmured, remembering something a dear friend of hers had said, and the child said,

"How did you know my name?"

"You look like your sister, my dear," said Miyako. "How may I address you?"

The child considered her, head on one side.

"You can call me Rukia-chan," she said finally. "Because you are nice, and you know my lady, and you talk like Brother. What is your name?"

Miyako introduced herself.

"And what," said Rukia, clearly a stickler for the proprieties when it suited her, "am I to call you?"

Miyako suggested humbly that nee-chan would be nice, but the child shook her head.

"I do not call anybody Sister," she said: _she_ thought Miyako-dono sounded rather well.

"That is a little formal, surely," said Miyako. "What is wrong with Sister?"

Here she had touched on an old trouble. The child's face went even hollower, but her voice was matter-of-fact when she said,

"My sister does not like me to call her Sister, so I do not call her that, but I do not call anybody else Sister, either -- she is my only one, and I am hers."

"Oh! Then what do you call her?"

"My lady," said the child.

"But my dear, isn't that rather unkind?" said Miyako gently.

"My lady turned her face away when I called her Sister," said the child. "And Brother says we must never hurt my lady, but protect her, and she is my only sister, so I stopped. And -- and one day I will be good, and my lady will be glad she took me in, and she will l-love me -- "

"Oh, my darling," said Miyako. She held out her arms. The child, caught between pride and heartbreak, fought for a moment: then she cannon-balled into Miyako's embrace, and hid her face in her shoulder.

"I am sure she loves you; how could anybody not? Oh, please do not cry," murmured Miyako. She said these and many other such useless things, thinking that Rukia had not been so far off the mark when speculating on the murderous intent directed towards Kaien. She could indeed have killed him: how could he have played with the child all this time and not healed this terrible wound, thought the Princess -- which was markedly unfair of her, but then Rukia was not the only one who saw the young Lord Shiba as a hero.

After a short time Rukia pushed away and sat up and rubbed her eyes. Miyako offered to wipe her nose for her, but the child took the handkerchief out of her hands and did it herself.

"I am sorry for my weakness," she said, with an icy formality. Miyako almost laughed at the resemblance -- it was Kuchiki Byakuya in miniature, down to the very intonation -- but she saw that if she allowed herself to be distracted, she would lose this new friendship in a moment. The child was as touchy as a highly-bred falcon; the least offence would put her to flight.

"Now, that is truly unkind," said Miyako. The child struggled for a second, then broke and rubbed her head against Miyako's shoulder to show that they were still friends. But after that she would not snuggle anymore, and sat at a dignified distance from Miyako, curled up on the desktop.

"But you are not afraid of your brother?" said Miyako, wishing to bring the conversation onto safer ground -- and as absurd as it seemed to imagine that Kuchiki Byakuya could be anything but the most terrifying of parents, her instinct appeared to be right, for the child brightened.

"Only sometimes," she said: not a promising beginning, but she went on, "When I have been _very_ bad, and he is angry. But Brother never beats me -- he only orders my nurse to whip me, and _she_ -- " with magnificent scorn -- "could not whip to sting a fly, and he teaches me to fight and read and play shogi, and he says when I beat him I may have a dog. And he tells me stories when I go to bed at night.

"They are very boring stories, but," she added loyally, "sometimes there is blood."

"He sounds like a wonderful brother," said Miyako, then, after a brief silence: "I am more glad than I can say."

"Nobody else has such a brother," said the child.

"But he will not let you have a dog, Rukia-chan?"

The child shook her head.

"Not till I've earned it," she said. "But I will very soon, because I am getting better at shogi every day. And -- " this with a rather more confident optimism -- "p'raps he will come home tired one day, and not play as well."

Miyako suppressed a smile. "Do you like dogs, then?"

"You see, they are so friendly and warm, and if you share your food with them they will sleep with you at night," Rukia explained. "And now I am with my sister I will not ever need to eat them, so we could be proper friends. You cannot really be proper friends with someone you might eat."

"That is very true," Miyako said, already planning marvellous surprises. She could not dare go over the head of such a personage as the Kuchiki heir himself, of course; more importantly, nothing could be essayed if Byakuya were certain to assert his will even in the face of a _fait accompli_, and demand that the dog be returned -- or worse, drowned. She could not risk disappointing the child. But if what she heard of Byakuya as a brother were true -- and though the general public said disapprovingly that the marriage and adoption had not softened him in any respect, his closest friends said otherwise -- well, it was a possibility.

"What sort of a dog would you like?" she asked.

Rukia had obviously already given this question a great deal of thought. She said promptly,

"One like Kaien."

Miyako put her head down despite herself. Rukia watched her, puzzled, wondering if she should be affronted.

"Oh, the heartbreaker," Miyako said, when she had fought down her laughter. "My darling, I must warn you not to pin your hopes of happiness on the man. If he has played false once, he will do it again -- though I must commend him on his taste."

"As to _that_, maybe I do not want to marry him after all," said the child: she had been thinking. "It would not be pleasant to have Brother be angry all the time, and if I lived always with Kaien, he would be, because Kaien doesn't ever stop laughing. And Ukitake-dono gives me sweets as well, so p'raps it would be nicer to be married to someone else -- and Miyako-dono is _much_ prettier."

She gave Miyako a soulful look, which she did very well: as scrawny as she was, her huge dark eyes were her one genuinely beautiful feature. Miyako knew herself to be played by a master, but she could not help being warmed with an unexpectedly bright flush of happiness.

"This charm must be all your own," she murmured, flicking the child's cheek with a finger. Rukia squirmed away and laughed. "I see I was wrong when I accused Shiba Kaien of being the heartbreaker of the relationship. I am so very flattered, my dear. I should be glad to be your betrothed, provided that Lord Byakuya does not object."

"He will like you -- or, well, he does not like anybody except my lady and me, but you will make him less angry than Kaien, because you are polite," said Rukia. "My lady says you should be polite to everybody, and then they will not expect it when you kick them, but Brother does not think you should be polite to anybody at all, unless you mean it.

"My lady always means it, though," she added anxiously.

"The kicking makes no difference," said Miyako.

"No," the child agreed, pleased by her understanding.

"Does your brother _say_ you are not to be polite to anybody?" said Miyako.

"No, it is my lady teaches e-ti-quette," said Rukia. "But you can tell from what Brother does. He is not polite to you if he does not respect you, and he does not respect you if you are not worth respecting, but everybody else must be polite to him, because he is better than them." She said this with such simple, absolute faith that Miyako had to duck her head, but fortunately Rukia did not notice.

"You are enchanting, but would it be correct to observe that you seem to follow your brother's example rather than your sister's?" said Miyako.

"Oh yes," said Rukia. "I ought not, because I am not as important as Brother. But I am bad, so I am only polite to people I like, and to people Brother respects."

It was treading on thin ice, but Miyako could not resist.

"He is not very polite to Captain Ukitake," she suggested. She had been present on the several occasions when Ukitake had emerged from a meeting with Kuchiki Byakuya, and sat down to quote in high delight choice pieces of the young noble's hortation, like a fond mother repeating the pretty sayings of her babes. It was Lord Byakuya's considered opinion that to give in to the temptation of sweeties, and thus to be lured away from the virtuous comforts of home and dental hygiene, was beneath the dignity of a Kuchiki scion; and that to perpetrate such a temptation on the young was conduct unworthy of a captain of the Thirteen Court Divisions. (This last made Captain Kyouraku roll, but Kaien revelled most in the teeth.)

"Oh, _that_ is because I like Ukitake-dono," said Rukia.

"Of course," said Miyako gravely. "Even such a being as Lord Byakuya must occasionally be prey to jealousy."

"It is because I am his, so he does not like to think I might like to be anyone else's," said the child. She seemed to think this an entirely sensible position. "Of course I like Brother best, but," she added wistfully, "Ukitake-dono is very nice, and he is not afraid of Brother either."

"Then I could hardly do less," said Miyako. She held out a hand to the child. "Will you come with me to the office, now?" Miyako had more respect than Ukitake or Kaien for Rukia's teeth, but there were other ways of winning a child's heart. "We will see if there is fruit to be got, and if we have time before it gets too late, I will show you how to fold a crane from paper."

Rukia was charmed.

"I will make two, and I will ask my lady if she can make them fly," she said, putting her grubby little hand in Miyako's. Miyako squeezed it.

"I am sure she will, if she can," said Miyako. "Will you give them to her and your brother?"

"Only if they are good enough," said the child, as if this was obvious.

"My darling, surely they always would be," said Miyako: and though she was a young lady of great insight, she did not know she was wasting her breath -- that was one thing Rukia would never believe.

_End._


End file.
